


You Always Make Me Smile

by Ship_theboybands



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 18:02:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2034726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ship_theboybands/pseuds/Ship_theboybands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's kinda sad and Michael's sorta adorable and it's nice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Always Make Me Smile

**Author's Note:**

> here is a thing i wrote a thousand years ago
> 
> come say hi to me fairyflossclifford.tumblr.com

Harry’s a little sad, and a little lonely, and a little gay.

He’s not tired enough to go to sleep, but he’s too exhausted to actually go out and do something, so he just lays in bed and thinks about things he could of done better. It’s raining, which is a nice contrast to the sweltering heat of Texas at least. Ha, crying in a hotel room in New York and it’s raining, how is this his life? He knows he’s lucky, he really fucking does. He just sometimes can’t help but feel kind of awful, and it’s no ones fault but his own. He could come out, it’s not like he’s being forced into a closet, he’s  
just so terrified of what it would be like if he did. Of what people would say about him. He presses the heals of his palms into his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Grow the fuck up, Styles” he mutters to himself, and stays like that for a while.

And then, suddenly, Michael Clifford. 

This pink haired thing comes bounding through the door Harry thought he’d locked, and Harry’s sitting up, hoping his eyes aren't red. Michael doesn't seem to notice, anyway, if they are, or at least doesn't mention it.

“Hey Harry,” he smiles, wide eyes, and pale skin, and pink lips. And then he’s dropping down on the bed next to Harry, “you should lock your door. Any thirteen year old girl could come in and steal your boxers.”

Harry’s about to retort with something hilarious and clever when Michael makes a sudden face like a grumpy baby, shuffles so he’s laying across the bed, and drops his head into Harry’s lap. Fucker.

“You _could_ nock,” he grumbles.

“Pass us the remote?” Michael asks, but Harry’s a little distracted by the cute way in which Michael pulls his sleeves over his hands and into mittens, and doesn't respond right away.

Michael huffs and says: “Please?” And ,right, Michael saying please with his head in Harry’s lap. Brilliant. Harry passes him the remote and flicks him on the head, but Michael swats him away.

“Make yourself at home,” Harry mumbles, so Michael bites his knee and tells him to shut up.

There’s nothing good on, so they play Fifa instead, and Michael wins because he is a huge dork loser with no life outside of playing video games.

It’s nice though.

Michael's nice.


End file.
